


everything in its right place

by aesoprock



Category: South Park
Genre: Depression, Existential Crisis, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Inspired by Music, Light Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Radiohead, scott is a hipster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29834151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesoprock/pseuds/aesoprock
Summary: Kyle isn't sure why Cartman suddenly has a new older brother... so he finds out.Featuring the most unpopular ship you've ever seen!
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski & Scott Tenorman, Kyle Broflovski/Scott Tenorman
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. you

**Author's Note:**

> i slightly changed the age gap so it wouldn't be weird

Kyle consistently found himself agreeing to things he didn’t want to do. And like clockwork, he always regretted it.

“Can you get over it? It’s just one night, and if he does anything, I’ll walk you home. Okay?”

This time was no different. 

“I  _ know  _ I can leave. I’m probably gonna leave as soon as he opens his stupid mouth.”

“Then what’s the point in coming?” Stan asked.

“Exactly! Every time I do something for him, he ends up pissing me off.”

The boys were finally getting a taste of “summer.” Most of the snow on the ground was coming to a brown, thawed sludge, and it was nice enough outside to not wear a jacket… if you were brave. “I hope you stay around. Even if you don’t spend the night,” he said, pulling his backpack straps back into place as Cartman’s house came into view.

Kyle ran his fingers through his short, curly hair. At the end of 9th grade, he made the decision to shave the sides down, and he wasn’t regretting it. Girls liked him a lot more now. Though he didn’t think there would be any girls at Cartman’s party- his mom, maybe- he knew Craig, Jimmy, Tweek, and Token were going to be there. Craig always made him nervous, and he wasn’t sure if he just  _ liked  _ Craig, or if Craig was so intimidating that he constantly had to be on edge. Probably the latter, he couldn’t see himself dating Craig. “Why do you want to go again?”

“He says his older brother can get us alcohol and drive us around.” Of course Stan was going for the alcohol. Of course. Now Kyle would have to be his new caregiver whenever Stan inevitably puked his guts out.

“He has an older brother?”

“Yeah.” Stan got on the porch and knocked on the door.

Kyle had been to Cartman’s house many times, and  _ not once  _ heard of an older brother. “Wh- since when?” he asked, following him onto the porch. They looked like the first ones there. “He’s just making that shit up to get us to come.”

“No dude, I actually think he has an older brother. You know how he’s been complaining all the time? About how-”

Cartman opened the door. “Well, look who’s here.  _ Kahl _ .”

“Yep. That’s me.” Kyle pushed past him, dropping his bag on the floor in the living room. “Stan said you had a brother?”

He did one of those deep, exasperated Cartman sighs- the one he always does before explaining something he thinks is complicated to somebody. “Yes, Kahl. Unfortunately, I have a brother.”

“And he’s gonna take us where?”

“To buy alcohol,” he snapped, walking into the kitchen.

Kyle wanted to meet Cartman’s alleged  _ brother,  _ just to see if it was true, but he thought pushing Cartman’s buttons too quickly would upset him, and if he was going to be there for Stan, he had to keep Cartman happy. “Okay. Who else is coming?”

“Bebe, Craig, Kenny, Butters, Token, Clyde, Red-”

“And how is everyone gonna fit in one car?”

“Oh, what _ ever,  _ Kyle. You’re just trying to piss me off.” Cartman left the kitchen to go open the door, letting Craig, Kenny, and Clyde in. “Hi every-booody! Welcome to my birthday party, now I see you guys didn’t get me anything… well, that’s  _ okay,  _ I guess-”

Kyle looked away, opening his mouth to make some snarky remark about Cartman-  _ oh, he thought people were going to bring him gifts? I wouldn’t bring him a gift for a  _ million _ dollars,  _ when one of the doors in the hallway opened. A boy that he didn’t recognize entered the kitchen. Kyle knew instantly that this was the brother Cartman was talking about.

Actually… he and Cartman’s brother looked… the same. They both had red, curly hair, freckles, and were tall and scrawny. Stan beat him before he could say anything. “Uh, hi.”

He opened the fridge, pausing to look at Stan and Kyle. He turned around. “Your friends are here, faggot!” he shouted at Cartman, before grabbing a gallon of milk from the fridge.

“I  _ know,  _ Scott, gahd!” Cartman came back into the kitchen, with Craig, Kenny, and Clyde behind him. “We-”

“I’m surprised you even have friends,” Scott commented, taking a bowl and a box of cereal from the cabinet, even though it was almost 6 PM. 

_ Oh my god, he’s just like me,  _ Kyle thought, looking over at Craig and Kenny, giving Kenny a small wave. Kenny grinned back.

Cartman’s face reddened. “I have more friends than  _ yew _ , at least! Now shut up.”

“Right.” Scott poured the milk into his cereal.

“So… you’ll bring us beer, riiight?”

He turned around. “No?”

“But you said you would!”

“When the hell did I say that?”

“You- um- when- you said you knew a guy!” Cartman pouted.

Craig frowned. “Well, this sucks. Screw you, Cartman.”

“Yeah, I know a guy. I never said I’d give  _ you  _ alcohol,” Scott muttered, putting the milk away. “Keep your stupid friends quiet, okay? You guys aren’t even eighteen, you don’t need to be drinking.”

Someone else knocked on the door, but it didn’t matter, because they let themselves in anyway. “But you have a car! You could drive us somewhere.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “I can’t even drive without an adult in the car, it’s called a  _ permit. _ I don’t know what you’re on.” He held his bowl of cereal in one hand and entered the hallway, disappearing back into his room.

“Oh, what a dick,” Cartman whispered to himself. Bebe, Red, Butters, Token, and Scott Malkinson were now in the hallway next to everyone else. Most of them were fuming. Cartman turned back around. “Sorry, guys. We can’t get any beer because of my stupid brother. But we can still have fun, right?”

“What? But you said-” Scott Malkinson protested, getting cut off by Butters.

“Yeah, fellas!” he shouted. “It’ll be okay! Alcohol isn’t good for your body. Just like, when we were in elementary school, and we had an assembly, and those people came in and they sang songs to us. We can have fun without it!”

Bebe stared at him. Everyone else complained and berated Cartman, but she pulled out her phone. “Guys, I might be able to get some! Calm down!” she shouted, texting.

“I, uh, have to go to the bathroom. Be right back,” Kyle told Stan, leaving his side.

-

“Kyle! Are you okay? Bebe has some college friends, there’s enough room for you if you want to come with us.”

“No, sorry dude. I feel too sick. I’m gonna walk home after this, okay? Or call my dad. You guys can leave without me.”

Kyle could hear Stan sitting down against the door. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna leave you here alone, dude.”

“It’ll be fine,” he spoke. 

“Really?”

Kyle was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, perfectly fine. “I- yeah. I’ll be okay. If I can’t go home, Cartman’s brother can help me. Go, Stan. I know that’s why you came here. I won’t hold it against you,” he spoke, trying to sound sincere and totally not angry at all.

“...Alright. But you can’t be mad at me next week.”

“I won’t,” he urged.

“If you’re sure, I mean, I guess I’ll go.” He heard some movement on the other side of the door. “I hope you feel better.”

Kyle inhaled. “Yeah. Thanks. Stay safe.”

“I will. Um, see you later.”

“Yep. You too.”

“Bye.”

...What was taking him so long? “Bye.”

“Love you, dude.”

What? “Uh. Yeah. I love you too, man. Go have fun.”

“...I will.” And just like that, Stan was descending the stairs, joining Bebe and her college friends out in the driveway. He left the bathroom and entered Liane’s room, watching out of the window. As soon as the car pulled away, he walked downstairs, trying to be quiet.

Kyle stood in front of Scott’s room- a room he recognized as Liane’s old “guest” room. Liane’s “guest” room was the last place Kyle would want to sleep every night, but it was the only open room in the house aside from the basement, so there weren’t a lot of options.

He crept forward. Ever since Scott appeared in the kitchen, he had wanted to talk to him. And why? He was just another high schooler, one that happened to be related to Eric Cartman now.

But Scott hated Cartman. Maybe as much as  _ he  _ hated Cartman. And he seemed… familiar.

Would knocking on his bedroom door be weird? He wasn’t even sure what he could say to this guy, plus, Scott was older than him. He intimidated Kyle more than Craig intimidated Kyle.

Scott left his bedroom before Kyle could make a choice, and he was caught like a deer in headlights, creepily standing in front of his bedroom. “I thought everybody left?” Scott asked, staring down at him. He stepped back into the kitchen, dropping his empty cereal bowl in the sink.

“Yeah. They all left.”

“Except for you,” Scott stated.

His stomach lurched. Scott didn’t look angry, but Kyle couldn’t help feeling like a burden. “Um, yeah.”

“What? So they left you behind?”

Kyle tried to speak, but he wasn’t sure how to explain the situation in a way that didn’t sound creepy. “Good. Save yourself some trouble. He’d probably abandon you and leave you to get date raped by some frat guys,” Scott said, making no move to go back into his bedroom.

“That’s something Cartman would do, yeah. But I wasn’t planning on getting drunk.”

Scott seemed amused. “So you came to Cartman’s birthday party without the intention of drinking, even though you don’t like him? That’s just torture,” he laughed. 

He smiled back, and while he was grateful that he was finally getting to talk to Scott, he wasn’t sure how he was coming across. Did Scott think he was weird? Awkward? He didn’t know what to do with his hands, or how to stand, or what to say. “I came with a friend, I was gonna take care of him when he got drunk. But yeah, I’m glad I… didn’t go.”

“That’s nice, I guess,” he murmured. Kyle could tell that he didn’t care. “So what’s your name?”

“My name’s Kyle,” he answered, his smile growing. “And you’re Scott.” A dazed, jittery feeling grew inside him. Scott cared enough to ask for his name- which gave him hope. He thought Scott would dismiss him and tell him to go home.

Scott frowned. “Okay, I still don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?”

“You  _ choose  _ to be around Eric, and I’m forced to live with him?”

As he spoke, he tried to think of a way to get Scott to keep him around. “I hate him too, trust me. But Stan begged me to come.”

Scott shifted his weight to his left foot. “Well, okay.” Without warning, Scott twisted the door handle open and stepped into his room, turning back around to talk to Kyle. “You can walk home, right?”

“Yeah, I can,” he said, his chest tightening.  _ This isn’t the end, Scott is still gonna live here,  _ he told himself, but the chances of Kyle weaseling back into Cartman’s house to talk to Scott was low. Cartman would question him, Scott would question him, and if anybody else was around, his eagerness to be there would throw them off..

“Okay.” 

But Kyle saw something behind Scott, possibly his saving grace. Probably not. But worth a try anyway. “Okay!” he exclaimed, forcing a smile. “Uh, your room is really cool, by the way. I like the- uh- the albums you have on the wall.” He paused, trying to think of the album covers. Kyle didn’t listen to a lot of music. Anything that wasn’t rock was unexplored territory for him, but fortunately the albums on the wall looked more… indie, though he didn’t recognize most of them.

Something shifted in Scott’s facial expression. “Really? Oh, do you like Frank Ocean? Or Death Grips?” he asked, widening the crack in the door, possibly inviting Kyle in. 

Kyle wasn’t sure if Scott  _ really  _ wanted him inside his room, or if he was just opening it more to talk to him, but he had to answer. He knew Stan liked Frank Ocean. Stan forced him to listen to a song or two- it was mostly “sad boy” shit that Kyle didn’t like, but he recognized the album cover on the wall. “Oh, yeah. Frank is good…” he murmured, trying to read the album title from where he stood. “Especially Blond.”

For a moment, he was worried Scott wouldn’t buy it. What if Scott asked him to name a song, or worse, another album? Or what if he asked about that stupid… Death Grips thing?

“Okay. Blond is my favorite, you’re right. So you’re not into his happy stuff?” Scott asked, letting go of the door handle and walking over to his wall of records. When Scott moved the door, Kyle realized that Scott’s collection was much wider than the nine or so albums on the wall to his right- he had multiple walls almost covered in them. If it wasn’t a record, it was a poster or drawing of some sort. It almost felt claustrophobic, but the windows- wide open, no blinds or curtains in sight- helped the room out a lot. “Have you ever listened to Channel Orange before? I know it has some weak spots, but it’s still good.”

If he said no, what would Scott do? Make him listen to it?

Kyle bit his lip, carefully stepping through the doorway, his throat closing up on him. Scott was visibly enthusiastic about this stuff, and Kyle wanted to stick around… he shook his head no, glancing over at the windows. It was far too cold to have them open.

“Oh, sorry,” Scott said with a stifled laugh, running over to both windows and closing them. “Yeah, I didn’t notice how cold it was. Sorry. You can have the… uh, the blanket over there if you want. I think it’s clean,” he said, pointing to a silky flannel blanket in his half-open closet.

_ I did it,  _ he thought to himself, quickly thanking Scott and reaching up to grab the blanket, his heart racing. He was in here now, and he was staying, as long as he played his cards right. 

“Of course,” Scott said, although Kyle never actually thanked him. He smiled awkwardly, looking up at the wall. “Um, do you want to listen to it? Pyramids is really good, I think you’ll like it, it’s kinda longer though, but-”

“Sure,” he said enthusiastically, though not  _ too  _ enthusiastically, he didn’t want to sound like he was cutting him off to shut him up. “Where do I sit?”

“Anywhere.” Scott didn’t seem offended as he reached up, taking Channel Orange down from the wall. He opened his record player and took the previous record off of it, sliding it into a black and white toned cover with a thick, gray border around it. It looked like dead bodies on the cover, but Kyle hoped he was wrong. His view wasn’t the best anyway. He put it back on the wall and started the Frank Ocean record.

Still standing, Kyle wrapped the blanket around his arms and upper body, holding it closed. The album started with some weird ambient noises, and two men talking over it.

-

As they listened, he ended up on Scott’s bed. Kyle made sure they didn’t sit too close together.

Maybe it was the album itself, or maybe it was being around Scott, but Frank Ocean sounded  _ so much better  _ this time. Kyle recognized a handful of tracks from the playlists he shared with Stan, whenever they would ride the bus and share earbuds in the morning. Kyle always tuned those out, but he was second-guessing his opinions now.

Overall, the songs were better than the stuff Stan made him listen to, off of Blond or whatever, just because he was actually paying attention and not dismissing the music as emo rap. Every so often, he asked Scott the name of the song. He liked most of them and planned on looking them up later, but he wanted to seem interested, so he asked anyway.

Near the middle of ‘Crack Rock,’ he and Scott started talking. About how good the music was, and about what Frank Ocean intended with the songs, but somehow the conversation delved off into Cartman.

“What do you think he’s doing right now?” Kyle asked, smiling.

“Oh, he’s passed out somewhere. Or puking.” Scott shifted his legs to face Kyle. “You know he’s gonna come back home and talk about how  _ every single college chick  _ wanted his shriveled dick or something and how he got them all pregnant and now he has all of their numbers.”

He laughed, turning to face Scott too. “No, he’s gonna say that every single girl broke up with their boyfriends for him, but he turned all of them down and fucked a different girl instead.” 

The song faded under their voices, and a new one came on. “No! He’s gonna come home with fake hickeys and everything!” Scott said,  _ truly  _ smiling this time. “Has he even had a girlfriend yet?”

“Ugh… this girl named Heidi dated him in fourth grade, but he turned her fat and everyone started hating her so she broke up with him,” Kyle explained. The new song sounded like some song you’d hear in a club, but a surprisingly good one, with melodic, poetic vocals, that Kyle couldn’t understand- something about Cleopatra. He was too busy talking to Scott, he’d have to look them up later. The bass was thick, bottomless, with what sounded like muted church vocals behind it..

“Really? I feel bad for her. Also, this is Pyramids. The best song.”

“Oh… I like it so far, it’s good. But yeah. What’s wrong with Cartman, anyway? I wanna know. Why is he insane?” Kyle asked. Thinking about Cartman made his mind wander off to Stan, about how he was drunk somewhere, with a bunch of predatory college students. Was it a mistake to stay with Scott? He liked Scott, he liked talking to him, and in fact, he was actually…  _ happier,  _ sitting on Scott’s bed with a blanket wrapped around him, with a record playing, than he ever was around Stan. Even on the nights they stayed up, playing video games or talking about life. On Fridays, during Stan’s football games, he had the most fun screaming until his throat was sore and hugging him after the game. Everything was perfect, up until they got home from City Wok or Whistlin’ Willy’s. Stan would take a shower and then lay in bed with Kyle. Stan would be exhausted, but he’d still manage to talk, and talk, and talk. If he won, it would be about how he won’t be able to win during the next game, because the opposing team will be sooo much better than him, and how he’s not even that good of a quarterback, and he only got the position because everyone in South Park sucks. Or if he lost the game, he’d talk about the things he did wrong, or the ways he fucked up, and basically shit on himself while Kyle listened and comforted him and told him everything would be okay. 

The Saturday after he lost, he’d be drinking. No exceptions.

It was exhausting. With Scott, there was none of that. Music, ripping on Cartman, and that constant twitch in his chest that would never go away. He wasn’t going to drop Stan, that would be too cruel, but he realized that he couldn’t fix him. Stan had issues. But if he wanted to get better, he’d have to work on them himself. And Scott… he wasn’t perfect either, but he was a breath of fresh air from Stan’s constant self-deprecation.

“You okay?” Scott asked, gently shaking his arm.

He smiled. “I’m good. Sorry, I was just thinking.”

-

They spent some time talking before the record ended, but most of it was spent listening. After the closing ambient noises, Scott stood up and slid the record back into its shell. “I haven’t listened to that one in a long time. Which song was your favorite?”

“Yeah, I- probably Pyramids. Or Pink Matter. Or Lost.” He paused, grinning. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t blame you. Lost is my favorite right now.” He put the record back up on the wall. “What do you wanna do now? We can listen to something else, or we can eat if you’re hungry.” Scott paused, staring up at all of the records. “I can order pizza. We don’t really have anything edible here.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine, I can find something,” Kyle said, standing up. The room was warm by now, so he let the blanket fall from his shoulders and onto Scott’s bed.

Scott gave him a warning look. “I’m serious. Liane is trying to get Cartman on a diet, she’s slowly replacing everything with cooking ingredients. Unless you want cereal or raw tortillas or something.”

“I can cook,” Kyle assured him, leaving the bedroom.

Scott followed him. “Really? Who taught you?”

“Who else? My parents. Why is it so surprising?” He entered the kitchen and started to open the cabinets, getting a feel for what he was working with. “What do you like?” Kyle asked.

“I mean.. I dunno. I’m pretty picky. But I like sweet stuff, if that helps,” he offered, staring from the hallway. “I don’t know anybody my age who can actually cook.”

Nodding, Kyle opened another cabinet. “Do you want me to just bake a cake?” He didn’t know many people in his own class who could cook, either- he tried to teach Stan a few times, and the two of them had fun with it, but Stan never retained the information. People like Bebe and Butters couldn’t cook. Maybe Token, but that was a long shot- who needed to cook for themselves when they had a chef?

“...Yeah! Wait, you should make brownies.” Scott moved closer. “Is it hard? Like, cooking and stuff? I should probably learn before I’m an adult.”

Luckily for him, Liane had a box of brownie mix in the pantry. He preheated the oven, then reached up to grab it. “Cooking… it depends on the stuff you like. Baking is easy, as long as you follow the directions. There should be recipes for most things online.” He grabbed a large bowl and searched for measuring cups in the drawers. “But if you want to make your own recipes, it takes a lot of time to make sure it’s right, because it’s in the oven and you can’t know how it’s gonna turn out.”

“That makes sense.” Scott watched, hypnotized as Kyle moved to measure the water, vegetable oil, and crack the eggs. He found a whisk and mixed them together, oblivious to Scott’s staring until he looked back.

Embarrassed at first, he looked away, but then tried to rationalize with it.  _ There’s nothing else to look at in the room. He’s interested in baking and cooking. Obviously he’s going to be watching me. _

_ But it’s not even real baking! I’m just putting this shit from a box together. _

Kyle dug a pan out of the cabinets and greased it. He read the time chart on the box and slid the pan into the oven, setting the timer. “That’s all, um…”

“So what else do you like?” Scott asked, sliding up onto the kitchen counter. “Besides cooking.”

_ He’s actually asking about me oh my god oh my god.  _ Kyle racked his mind for another hobby to mention. Schoolwork was his first priority, but all of it was fairly easy and he was able to complete it in time for other things… god, what else did he do all day?

Well, there was basketball that he quit in 8th grade.

He hung out with Stan a lot. And he watched YouTube.

Minecraft?

“Video games, I guess. Um, and I like science, but only some branches…”

“Oh. ‘Some branches’?”

He bit his lip, hands braced against the counter in thought. “Okay. For example, I’m- I don’t-” he stammered, standing up straighter. “I’m not into astronomy. Physics and stuff are okay, but I really like biology, geology, zoology, psychology, and uh… weather stuff. Meteorology.”

“Physics sucks.”

“I get that,” he smiled.

“Astronomy sounds cool though. Seriously? You don’t like it?”

Kyle shook his head. It didn’t feel like long, but the oven chirped. He turned around to check on it, and sure enough, the brownies were finished.

He took the pan out of the oven and slid a toothpick in the middle to make sure it was finished. He took it back into Scott’s bedroom, and Scott put another record on- this one was a Radiohead record, but Kyle wasn’t paying attention to it. He was too busy sliding the butter knife through the thick, gooey brownies, cutting them into small squares.


	2. glass eyes

Both stuffed with brownies and feeling like utter shit, they laid over the comforter, hands on their stomachs, wishing they hadn’t eaten so much. Kyle paid more attention to the album, trying to ignore the feeling of bile running up his throat, but it wasn’t helping. At home, he always ate the right portion sizes, or else his parents ridiculed him for it… maybe that’s why he decided to eat so much.

When the album ended, Scott begrudgingly got up and put a new record on. Kyle could instantly tell that this was another Radiohead record, just from the style of the music.

“This one used to be my favorite, before I listened to OK Computer,” he explained.

Kyle nodded, hoping Scott couldn’t tell that he didn’t care.

Scott laid down again.

-

This one- Hail to the Thief, Scott told him- was the most political of the nine Radiohead albums. The title of the album itself referred to a chant used during a protest against George W. Bush, and he explained the context of the first two songs as they played, though he fell silent around the third one. Kyle wasn’t sure why. Every so often, he’d glance over at Scott, and there he was, staring blankly at the ceiling with his hands on his stomach. Trying not to puke, probably. He decided to stay quiet.

Around the fifth or sixth song (Kyle wasn’t keeping track,) he turned to check on Scott again, and he was crying. Soundlessly. Tears streamed down his face, but he made no noise, no sobbing or choking or labored breathing.

Kyle sat up, and stared down at his flushed face. “Scott?”

“Yeah?” his voice wavered. Scott reached up, scrubbing his face with his sweater sleeves, refusing to make eye contact.

“You okay?”

“No,” Scott replied earnestly.

The smooth-spinning record, the lamp light glaring off of the glass in the darkened window, the tousled blankets surrounding them on the bed… Kyle inhaled. He felt safe here with Scott, and he wondered if Scott felt the same. “Do you want to talk?” he spoke gently. “I won’t judge.”

Scott sniffled- once- and sat up. “I don’t know,” he shuddered, but it came out more like “Idunnow.” “It’s a lot,” he continued.

“We don’t have to. But I’m here for you, okay?” He didn’t know Scott that well, but it still hurt, seeing him upset and hesitant to talk. 

“I should be over it,” Scott whispered, sniffling again. He pulled his legs and arms to his face, again starting to cry- but not the soft, pretty, silent cry that he was doing before. These were ugly tears, sobs, almost wailing. He wouldn’t let Kyle see his face, which he’d pressed up against his forearms. 

Kyle heard that sentence many times before.  _ I should be over it,  _ Stan would say to him, and it was the truth- Stan tripped himself up over small things. Whatever Scott was upset about didn’t seem small. “Hey, it’s okay… people have different responses to stress. It’s okay to feel upset.” Empty words, but he hoped they would work.

“But it’s been four m-onths.. I should-” Scott started, but fell silent.

“Four months isn’t that long ago.”

Scott pulled his limbs closer to himself, and there Kyle sat, unsure of how to proceed.

-

When Scott stopped crying, Kyle moved closer to pull him into a hug. But instead of hugging back, Scott pushed his arms out in front of him. “Don’t.”

Discouraged, he backed away and gave Scott his space.


	3. morning bell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the last chapter felt a little short so im giving you two ;)

“You’re awake already?”

The greasy pan slipped from his fingers and landed in the sink with a loud clash. Kyle turned around. “You scared me.” Unfortunately, Kyle’s internal clock was set to always wake him up around 6:30 AM. 

Scott came closer to him, leaning against the counter. “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry about last night, too, I don’t know why I cried like that. But thanks for staying with me,” he said. “And you didn’t have to clean the brownie pan. I could’ve done it.”

“Oh. Do you want to clean it? I already washed the bowl..”

“Yeah,” he said, moving to the sink and picking up the pan. “You shouldn’t have to clean. It’s not your house.”

Kyle stepped aside, watching him. “But I made the mess.”

Scott shook his head, turning the faucet off and wiping the crumbs off of the sides with the dishrag. “Anyway.. I have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you so nice to me?”

Kyle pulled a chair out from the dining room table, sitting down and turning back to Scott. “What do you mean?”

“Just,” Scott started, setting the pan in the dish drainer. “So you’re like this to all of your friends?” He put the dish rag behind the faucet, rinsing his hands off and sitting down next to Kyle.

Was it really that big of a shocker? “How do your friends act around you? I’m not doing anything, uh… differently around you. I mean, maybe I tease my friends more because I know them better, but that’s all..” Admittedly, Kyle was being a lot sweeter to Scott than he was to Stan, but he was also sick of Stan’s self-loathing. He did do lots of chores at Stan’s house, though, only because he couldn’t stand the mess and dysfunctionality. 

“I don’t talk to them anymore, but when I did, they were always dicks. You know how older brothers act? Breaking shit around the house, then they blame it on you, before pushing you down the stairs? Like that,” Scott explained.

So toxic masculinity. Kyle had never had an older brother, and he was never like that towards Ike. Ike got his way most of the time, so he couldn’t blame stuff on him if he tried. “Oh,” he said. “You don’t talk to them anymore?”

“Coronavirus. We’re all online now, so I don’t talk to them.”

Kyle nodded. “Your friends suck, dude. Did you have to change schools to live here?”

“No. I still went to South Park, I just didn’t know I was related to Cartman until a few months ago.” Scott rolled his eyes. “I have the worst luck in the world. I’d rather have anyone else as a half-sibling.”

Kyle smiled. “Yeah, I feel bad for you,” he said, his heart hammering in his chest. This was his chance to keep talking to Scott. “If you ever want to get away from him, you could come to my house? My parents and little brother suck, but my dad works on the weekend sometimes, and my mom leaves to take Ike to his hockey games.”

“Oh, sure! Cool,” he agreed, smiling. “I don’t know where you live. But you could send me your address later tonight? I’ll give you my phone number..?”

-

**_Kyle:_ ** _ Hi!! Just want to check that this is your number _

**_Scott:_ ** _ it is _

**_Scott:_ ** _ hi kyle _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ Okay, good. Hi Scott :) _

**_Scott:_ ** _ how are you? _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ I’m good _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ Just doing homework I guess. How was your day? _

**_Scott:_ ** _ uhh it was fine _

**_Scott:_ ** _ if it weren’t for you i would’ve slept and watched tv all day lol _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ Oh. Sorry? _

**_Scott:_ ** _ no i mean thats a good thing _

**_Scott:_ ** _ that you were here _

**_Scott:_** _i mean that i met you_

**_Scott:_ ** _ sorry idk _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ OHH haha okay _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ Thanks. I’m super relieved _

**_Scott:_ ** _ ikr, if i didnt like you i wouldnt be talking to you right now _

**_Scott:_ ** _ so _

**_Scott:_ ** _ when can you come over next? _

**_Scott:_ ** _ or when can we hang out _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ I can do tomorrow after school? If we go to my house my parents are gonna have questions. And if we go to yours, Cartman is gonna have questions. So idk. And it’s still cold outside. Maybe in a few weeks it’ll get hotter. _

**_Scott:_ ** _ ill tell cartman to stfu if you wanna come over here _

**_Scott:_ ** _ but i can deal with your parents _

**_Scott:_ ** _ are they crazy? _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ Yes. _

**_Scott:_ ** _ on a scale from 1-10 _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ Like uhhh. A 7. _

**_Scott:_ ** _ that sucks but i can deal with them _

**_Scott:_ ** _ you’ll have to show me where you live _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ We could meet up somewhere?  _

**_Scott:_ ** _ the gym _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ Okay! Sounds good _

**_Scott:_ ** _ yea _

**_Scott:_ ** _ im surprised you’re still up _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ Me too. But I’ve been putting off this stupid math packet _

**_Scott:_ ** _ want me to leave you alone? i dont want you to stay up too late _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ No it’s okay! It isn’t due until Wednesday. We can keep talking :) _

**_Scott:_ ** _ nerd lol _

**_Scott:_ ** _ just kidding _

**_Scott:_ ** _ so uhh _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ I know. Anyway, I have a question _

**_Scott:_** _yeah?_

**_Kyle:_ ** _ It’s weird that I’ve known Cartman for so long, and I didn’t know he had or lived with a brother _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ So when did you even move in? Because you weren’t in boxes or anything when I went in your room. _

**_Scott:_ ** _ ive been here for almost two months _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ Damn. Well, I don’t go to Cartman’s that much, so it makes sense _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ Why did you have to move into Liane’s? _

**_Scott:_ ** _ idk _

**_Scott:_ ** _ ill talk to you later dude _

**_Scott:_ ** _ i dont want you to stay up too late. so _

**_Scott:_ ** _ goodnight kyle :) _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ I already said that it’s fine _

**_Scott:_ ** _ i know. but i’ll leave you alone _

**_Scott:_ ** _ get some sleep _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ Fine. _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ I hope you sleep well too, whenever you decide to _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ I’ll see you tomorrow Scott _

**_Scott:_ ** _ you too _

**_Scott:_ ** _ im glad i met you _

**_Kyle:_ ** _ Me too. _

Kyle stared at the screen for what felt like thirty minutes, before giving up and setting it down. Something seemed off about the conversation. But it didn’t  _ feel  _ like Scott was lying to him about anything, and he couldn’t think of a reason for Scott to do so.

He flicked the side switch, turning his phone on silent. Kyle stood up and tidied his desk, throwing away a banana peel and some crumpled up papers. He returned to his math packet.


End file.
